Afterthought
by wingednightmare
Summary: During the journey, the relationship between Aragorn and Legolas develops into something more than just companionship. Yet when the Ring is destroyed, Aragorn knows he must face his future - but does that mean leaving the past behind? AL SLASH.
1. Memory

.: Afterthought :.

**A/N: **This plotline involves slash - that is, a romantic relationship between two characters of the same sex. If you are in any way uncomfortable with this concept, I would advise you to click the "Back" button and find something else to read.

Otherwise, sit back, relax, and enjoy the story!

: Chapter 1- Memory :

I can still remember the warmth of the dappling sunshine on that October evening. The evening I laid eyes on Aragorn, son of Gondor, for the first time in 65 years.

I had been walking rather briskly, for the Council of Elrond was due to begin in mere minutes, and well, I dislike admitting it, but I was lost. The House of Rivendell is one of many hallways and chambers, and since I had not set foot in Imladris for many years, I found myself wandering in circles, feeling very foolish and helpless.

Just as I was about to give up my futile search and head back towards the main hall to ask a guard or wandering passerby, I heard him call my name.

"Legolas?"

I turned around quickly, unnerved. Before me stood a man of tall stature, with a crown of dark hair and slate-blue eyes that were fixed directly on me. I recognized him at once.

"Aragorn!" I exclaimed, surprised. His face broke into a bright smile, and I felt a familiar warmth flood my heart. He looked exactly like the young man I knew him as so many years ago when he smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"Running late to Elrond's meeting, of course," he replied with a grin. "And I presume that is why you are here also?"

"Yes, but I seem to ah, have forgotten my bearings about this place," I flushed slightly.

"You're getting old, Legolas," he teased.

"Not funny," I retorted, biting my lip to hold back my laughter.

"Well, my old friend, come with me." We fell into step together easily, at a rather slow pace this time. I suspected he wanted to speak a bit more before joining Elrond.

"So exactly how many years ago did we last speak, anyway?" he asked ponderously. "You don't look a day older, but I suppose I must."

It was true. The last I'd seen him, Aragorn was still a youth of only 22 years, untouched by the harshness of the real world. But now, as I stole a closer look at him, I saw the fine wrinkles around his eyes, the strands of silver at his temples, the scars on his hands from years of sword bearing. However slowly the aging process was taking place in his Dunedan blood, he was definitely no longer a boy, but a man of wisdom and principle.

But something more than just a physical change was apparent in this man. His expressions gave away nothing, but I could see everything in his dark, brooding eyes. There was fear and doubt there, relentlessly inhabiting his mind. I assumed this uncertainty and apprehension was for what was to be discussed in the council.

"Legolas?"

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts. Aragorn was looking at me, concerned.

"I see you haven't lost the old habit of drifting off into space in the middle of conversations," he said quietly, a trace of a grin lingering on his lips.

"Just thinking back," I smiled. "I do believe it has been...64? 65? Yes, 65 years since we last saw each other."

"It's been long time, then," he said. "How have you been faring, my friend? I've long heard about the troubles arising in Mirkwood, and I even ventured out to help out, but the forests were so overrun..." he trailed off, uncertain of my response.

"Yes, the forest is rather chaotic at the moment," I replied evenly, making every effort to make my voice sound nonchalant, despite the uneasiness that arose in my heart whenever this matter was brought up. "We tried to do the best we could, but evil times have fallen, and the creatures that lurk in the depths of Mirkwood lands are leaving their caves, creating widespread terror for my people."

"I'm sorry," Aragorn placed a hand on my shoulder. I gave an involuntary shiver, but he didn't seem to have noticed. "I know how much you love your homeland."

"But enough talk of such ill happenings. What about you, my friend? Your duties as Ranger look as if they've certainly brought you many adventures."

He gave a small smile. "Indeed, I have traveled quite far, and seen sights wondrous enough to last me a lifetime, but it feels good to be home. Or, at least, as close to home as I'll ever get."

The way he spoke those last words struck me deep. I always tended to forget that Aragorn had lost both his parents at a young age, and had been nurtured and brought up here in Rivendell. Despite the kindness Elrond showed his foster-son, it didn't take Aragorn long to figure that he did not belong with the immortal Elves.

We walked the rest of the way to the courtyard in a comfortable silence. There was still so much I wanted to speak with him about, so many tales to exchange. I sensed that he, too, desired to catch up on everything that had passed over the years, but this was not the time to do so. There were more important issues that needed to be addressed.

We entered the courtyard and split up, me sitting with my kin, and him near the Men. Thankfully, there were still a few empty seats, so Elrond only frowned slightly as we walked in tardy. Looking about the courtyard, I recognized many lords and noblemen. Gandalf the Grey was present, sitting beside a Halfling. I had not ever laid eyes upon one of these folk before, only knowing of their existence through tales and stories, and I was taken aback by his innocent face and enormous azure eyes. What was this child doing here, in such a serious council?

To my great displeasure, I also noted that half a dozen dwarves were also present. They were looking towards the Elvish clan with expressions of intense dislike written all across their faces.

Minutes passed, and slowly the empty seats began to fill up. When the last member had arrived, Lord Elrond cleared his throat, and silence fell.

"My friends, let the Council of Elrond begin."

* * *

In retrospect, I was amazed that the Council of Elrond did not end in manslaughter. The tension in the courtyard was so thick it was almost visible, hanging over us like a veil of gloom and despair.

There was the obvious hostility that Boromir, prince of Gondor, felt towards Aragorn. The argument arose early in the discussion. Boromir wanted Gondor to claim the Ring, which would be used to defeat Sauron's forces. As everybody watched the two men bicker - Boromir, getting angrier with every retort, and Aragorn, insisting that the Ring would only bring treachery if used by Men - the feud grew worse and worse, until I myself stood up and revealed to Boromir that he was attacking his successor, the true heir to the Gondorian throne. He then silenced himself, but I noticed that every few minutes he would shoot deadly looks towards Aragorn, who did not seem to notice.

When it was finally decided that the Ring had to be destroyed, the question of who would do it arose. Nobody wanted the responsibility, yet the Dwarves didn't want the Elves to carry it, and naturally, I felt that any Dwarf was unfit to bear such an important burden. Accusations and insults broke out amongst the entire council, and it wasn't until we heard Frodo's little voice speak out did we stop arguing.

"I will carry it!" he said.

At first, it didn't seem like anybody had heard him at all. But the words rang through the court, silencing us all. Gandalf the Grey slowly closed his eyes. A pang of fear struck me to see the old wise wizard look suddenly look so aged and feeble.

"I will carry it - though I do not know the way," Frodo repeated quietly, his enormous eyes frightened. I suddenly knew what I needed to do – but Gandalf beat me to it. He stepped forward, announcing that he would accompany Frodo in destroying the Ring. Aragorn immediately followed, pledging his sword, and when Elrond shot me a look, I stepped up and also joined in.

Of course, Gimli, the most obnoxious Dwarf of them all, had to volunteer his axe also. I could not help but roll my eyes.

Not to be left in the dust, Boromir followed suite. With all the tension that had developed between him and Aragorn, I wasn't sure his company would do us any good. But then again, Gandalf could settle any disputes between them.

Then, unexpectedly, out of the bushes popped out three more Halflings. They ran to Frodo's side, their little furry feet pattering on the ground, and refused to leave their friend. Sam, Merry and Pippin were their names, and I immediately took a liking towards them. Frodo would need some friends as a reminder of who he was doing this for.

"You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring," Elrond declared with great pride in his voice. The remaining council members gazed at us, some in awe, some with doubt on their faces, and some with expressions of great pity, as if they were already mourning our deaths.

Beside me, Gimli gave a loud grunt of approval. I sighed. Aragorn shot me a sideways look, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"I look forward to finally having an adventure with you, my dear Legolas," he said to me before the group dispersed. "We've got 65 missed years of friendship to replace on this journey."

Little did we know then, but we were in for the experience that would remain with us for an eternity.

* * *

**A/N: **What did you think of this story's first chapter? Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Whatever you felt, please let me know by leaving a review! Your fuel is what keeps me going! 


	2. Farewell to Imladris

**A/N: **I am a truly awful, awful person for not updating sooner. It's just that I wanted every little tidbit to be perfect (it probably still isn't) and between everything that's going on in my life..well, there's no real excuse to not updating for 1/3 of a year, is there? Anyway, chapter 3 will _definitely_ be up soon. In the meantime, please submit a review! I'm very eager to hear any feedback. Thank you for your patience.

.: Afterthought :.

: Chapter 2 - Farewell to Imladris :

After a brief lunch following the Council, Elrond sent us back to our chambers to pack. While ascending the main staircase, I caught my first ever glimpse of Arwen Undomiel, who was traversing a narrow upstairs corridor. I recognized her immediately, as she was famous all across Middle-Earth for her unparalleled beauty, and even from afar I could see that she was breathtakingly gorgeous.

I was unconscious of the fact that I had stopped walking. She caught sight of me, standing rather foolishly on the middle of the stairs, and turned her head to meet my eye. For a still moment, our gazes were locked. She was still and remote, but I could sense a deep, riveting sadness that lingered in her fathomless eyes. Time seemed to skipped a heartbeat.

Then I blinked - and she was gone. I didn't know this, but the next time I would lay eyes on her would be at her wedding day.

* * *

That night, a raging storm shook the skies and lashed torrents of rain onto Middle-Earth. I sat on my bed, looking out into the darkness and listening to the furious cracks of lightning. My mind was troubled and uneasy.

How could nine travelers even _hope_ to make this impossible journey? The path itself was already arduous enough - the merciless rocks of Emyn Muil, the bitter cold of the Cahadras, the swamps, the rivers, the barren wastelands...all these obstacles we would have to overcome and somehow find enough kill or vegetation to sustain nine Companions. Then there were Sauron's forces. Birds in the air would report our every move, monsters in the waters would lurk after our steps, and always, always would the sharp fear of Nazgûl linger in the dark corners of our minds.

I closed my eyes. The Fellowship was due to embark on a fruitless journey. One that would only lead to death and destruction.

Where was that feeling I had experienced a few hours ago when I'd first volunteered to accompany Frodo? Why wasn't the thrill of danger or the excitement of a new journey coursing through my veins any longer? All of those feelings weren't supposed to be temporary. I wasn't supposed to doubt my decision.

I opened my eyes again and looked about my room miserably. The few possessions that I owned were all packed up, resting against a corner along with my bow and quiver, the latter of which was filled with a few dozen silver-tipped arrows. I didn't want to think where all those beautifully handmade arrows would be lodged in after this journey.

Sighing in dismay, I decided to put out the flickering candles and try to get some rest. As I laid my head down on the cool pillow, the image of Arwen's sad eyes burned in my mind. I wondered if her unhappiness had to do with tomorrow's journey, but troubled dreams soon overcame me and I thought no more of her.

* * *

The following day, we got off to a rough start. It was about 5 o'clock in the morning, and nobody seemed to have gotten enough sleep. Every face bore either an expression of weariness or doubt, save Gandalf the Grey. The old Wizard was bustling about, helping Sam stuff his pots into his bag, making sure Boromir had brought enough blankets, convincing Merry not to bring six pound's worth of weed, grooming Bill the pony...I could only stare in wonder at his energy.

"Ne'er thought I'd see Gandalf the Grey, with all his thousands of years, doing work this early in the morn with the enthusiasm and strength of a young man. Puts us to shame, doesn't he?" A tired but amused voice came from behind me. I turned around to see Aragorn bent over his own bag, trying to fit in a few more pieces of _lembas_ bread.

"Here, let me help you with that." Together we (somehow) managed to push aside a few articles of clothing to make room for the bread. Aragorn then sealed the pack with a satisfying knot.

"Thanks," he said, pulling back a few strands of dark hair as he stood up. "How're you feeling about this whole thing?"

"I'm _completely_ insecure and dubious," I replied honestly. "And actually a bit hungry, too."

Aragorn laughed, throwing his head back.

"Well, it's good to know at least one other person shares my feelings," he grinned. Despite his lighthearted tone and carefree smile, I couldn't help but notice his slightly bloodshot eyes and the dark circles beneath them. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who hadn't slept well.

And with that thought, I definitely felt my spirits rise a notch as the Fellowship began to depart, in single file, from the beautiful haven of Imladris.

* * *

The journey that the Nine Companions took was undoubtedly an unforgettable one. Hours, days, weeks, months of endless travels, taking us to the exotic countries and beautiful landscapes, where we met enemies, strangers and if we were lucky, friends. These memories which I hold dear to my heart will remain with me until my ashes are scattered into the Sea, but there thrives so many of them, all so lush in detail, that to recount them all would be rather stupid, when this tale is woven around the curious relationship that Aragorn and I developed. In saying this, I shall choose leave out some of the extraneous material (maybe for another story sometime) and focus on the events that built up what is truly important to this story.

One such event took place exactly a week after our departure. We had left the valley of Rivendell behind us and were crossing a small but dense forest that would eventually bring us out to the Cahadras. It was late in the evening; stars could be seen littered across the sky like secretive, glinting gems, and up to this point, we hadn't yet laid eyes on any potential enemies. That wasn't, however, a very comforting thought - instead, it made us all the more wary and anxious of a sudden attack.

The Fellowship reached a small open clearing surrounded by enormous elm trees with trunks so thick that all of our arms linked around probably would not have encircled one. Camp was set up quickly; everyone was looking forward to a well-deserved rest. As Boromir and I started a small fire, the hobbits and Gimli unpacked, and Gandalf the Grey standing watch, Aragorn volunteered to gather firewood to keep the blaze going through the night, for the October nights were growing chilly.

As I watched his lithe figure disappear into the trees, I could not help but suppress a feeling of unease. It was late at night, and if something happened to him...well, I didn't want to think of that. So as soon as Boromir and I had managed a small spark, I grabbed my bow and quiver and quietly slipped from the camp and into the forest, using my keen eyesight to follow the slight tracks he'd left. The trees around me were deadly silent and the only sound I heard was my own nervous breathing.

After a few minutes' wandering, I found him gathering twigs under an ancient elm, an already sizable bundle of wood balancing in his arms. In my careless relief, I stepped on a stick, which gave away under my weight. The crack resonated through the silent night sky.

In the swiftest of motions, Aragorn unsheathed his sword (still managing to hold onto to the firewood, which when I reminded him later, he found very funny). "Who's there?" he called out, muscles tense and ready to spring.

I recollected myself after a moment of pure shock. I'd never seen any creature react so quickly, and this almost unnatural speed unnerved me.

"It's just me," I said, stepping into the moonlit clearing. A look of relief passed over his face and he lowered his blade.

"What're you doing here? You nearly gave me a heart attack," he said pointedly.

"You - you shouldn't be here alone," I stammered a little, suddenly feeling rather stupid. "I don't want anything happening-"

"I can take care of myself, you know," he interrupted, now clearly annoyed. "Just because I'm not immortal doesn't mean I can't-"

"Quiet!" I hissed, for unless my eyes had deceived me, I had just seen a movement in the underbrush -

But Aragorn, in his vexed rant, had taken no notice, and was now looking at me with confusion and anger written all over his face.

"Legolas, I don't think you should be telling me to close my mouth when I'm in the mid-"

"Behind you!" I cried.

He turned, but it was too late.

I watched in horror as the massive form sprang up behind Aragorn, knocking him down. He fell with a muffled cry, wood scattering everywhere. By this time, I had had my arrow notched, but they were grappling now, and I could not make out anything in the dark, save another shadow in the trees-

I released the arrow, and it hit true to its mark. The shadow fell with a thump, but more were coming up behind it, emitting dangerous, low growls...arrow after arrow flew into their hides, but they were advancing steadily, their desire for blood inflating. I knew the two of us wouldn't be able to hold them off for long.

"We have to run, there's too many of them!" I cried, releasing another silver-tipped dagger. The beast ontop Aragorn looked up at me in surprise, for strangely, it had not noticed me before, and at that precise moment, Aragorn reached up and gouged out the creature's yellow eyes with deft fingers. I stared speechlessly at the empty, bleeding sockets. The furious, blind creature thrashed about, claws flying, and I winced as the sharp daggers tore at Aragorn's clothing and skin before the he managed to behead his enemy with a dagger and pushed himself up. At our feet was an enormous dead wolf, and in front of us, at least half a dozen more were emerging from the shadows, their yellow eyes glowing.

We immediately turned around and fled as fast as we could back to camp. Beside me, Aragorn's breathing was labored and he kept stumbling on the treacherous terrain. I grabbed his arm to guide him in the darkness and to my surprise, felt the warmth of gushing blood, but held on nonetheless. The moment we burst in the camp clearing, everybody looked up.

I'll never forget the sheer terror in Frodo's wide azure eyes when he laid eyes on the thick blood running down Aragorn's body

"Wolves," I gasped with the last of my breath. Aragorn suddenly grabbed my shoulder for support, the his sticky blood seeping onto my own skin. He was giving out.

In a fluid motion, Gandalf the Grey immediately reached for his staff, raised it to the sky and began to utter words in a tongue I did not recognize, his deep eyes focused and concentrated. Seconds after, I felt as if a dark veil had descended over us; the night grew silent, cooler, less noticeable. I looked towards the old Wizard quizzically.

"A temporary shield," he explained, eyes still closed and frowning in concentration. "Our presence here will go unnoticed for some time, but be quick, for I cannot hold the force long. We must flee. The wolves have minds of their own and will not be blinded for long."

Everybody rushed to gather their things. Seeing that Aragorn was leaning heavily on me, Gimli the Dwarf grabbed our packs, which shocked me considerably. I shot him a grateful look before following Gandalf into the opposite direction of the forest, the others running behind me. We fled for what seemed like an eternity. I was sure Aragorn's blood would provide a trail for the wolves - he was spilling so much of it onto the Earth. But Gandalf's spell worked well, and we left the forest safely.

Once we were out, Gandalf pushed us to keep going for a few hundred yards across a flat, barren meadow. When he decided we were far enough from the forest, judging by the fact that the wolves avoided open spaces, I was able to guide Aragorn down on the barren, wasted grass.

Gandalf immediately began issuing orders. "Boromir and Gimli, keep watch. If any foe should appear, Boromir, use the Horn of Gondor to alert us. Halflings, a river flows to the west. Go now together, and bring back as much water as you can. There is no more danger, but you must stay together. Legolas, where did he get hurt?"

"His chest and arms were scratched, and I fear he got bitten on his shoulders and back." I said, my heart sinking with every word as I helplessly watched Gandalf stoop over and check the now-unconscious Aragorn's pulse.

"He's lost a lot of blood, but he'll make it," the Wizard said wearily after a few seconds. "The poison shouldn't cause him anything but excruciating pain when he wakes, but just to make sure, we must wash his wounds. I need to gather some of the _Athelas_ plant. I need you to undress him and staunch the blood flow." I nodded, and he disappeared quickly.

With trembling fingers, I managed to peel off his tunic, which wasn't difficult at all, as it was already torn into shreds. Using these strips, I bound his upper arms tightly so that his blood circulation would be limited at his forearms, which bore deep cuts. It was difficult work, for the blood made the bandages slippery and even Elven eyes cannot see properly in the dark. Aragorn did not stir or utter any words through this entire process, and this lack of mobility filled me with a wrenching terror. It wasn't until I began to feel a tight, sharp feeling in my throat that I realized streams of tears were trailing down my cheeks.

_Please, please let him live..._

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Legolas' Discovery

.: Afterthought :.

: Chapter 3 - Legolas' Discovery :

I do not remember the details of that terrifying, bloody night, just the overwhelming emotions that rushed through my veins - the intense fear, the bottled anger, and the purity of the relief when Aragorn's eyelids fluttered at sunrise.

We had all initially planned to stay awake through the night, though when the sun's glow began to creep over the distant forest I realized that only Gandalf and I were conscious; one by one, the others had drifted off into uneasy slumber. I stole a weary glance at the old wizard. He was leaning against a boulder, gazing unblinkingly at Aragorn's unconscious form, his expression unreadable.

Between the remaining Companions, we had done all that we could that night. Aragorn's forehead had been dampened with a moistened towel, his shivering body covered in thick blankets, his open wounds washed, treated by kingsfoil, and carefully rebandaged whenever the blood soaked through, and we had forced copious amounts of water down his throat by the hour. Ironically enough, though, none of us had his healing powers, so all we could do was wait for him to awake

When the dark-haired Ranger finally did stir, nobody bothered to hide their happiness. Aragorn, confused at first and then rather embarassed, was for the most part horrified to find that everybody had worried so much over him. Though he took Gimli's ' gruff comments well ("If it hadda been me, I'd have shown those wolves the Dwarf in _my _blood") and even let Gandalf rebandage his wounds (which already showed signs of healing), I had the peculiar feeling that he did not want to speak to me. Whenever I looked towards him, his attention was elsewhere, but whenever I turned away, I was sure his eyes were fixed on me.

The Ranger insisted vehemently that he could manage walking, so by eight o'clock we had set off again, spirits high. The October air was fresh to inhale, and the Hobbits entertained themselves by seeing how many dandelions they could insert into the back of Gimli's helmet before the Dwarf realized what they were doing, while the rest of us tried to cover our sniggers.

By noon, we had reached the rocky slopes of the Cahadras and took a well-deserved break. By now, I was positive Aragorn was avoiding me, for we had not exchanged any words since he had awoken. Truthfully, I wasn't missing his companionship much – the way he had talked to me in the forest had been, in my opinion, nothing short of rude. So while he watched Boromir "duel" with Merry and Pippin, I decided to look around and made an unfortunate sighting - Crebain from Duneland, bird-shaped but very intelligent spies, undoubtedly sent by Saruman to report our progress.

After shoving myself under some scraggly hedges to avoid being seen, I knew at that instant that Saruman would never allow us to pass over the mountains alive. Gandalf, however, was still insistent as ever on this idea and it wasn't until Saruman practically brought down half the Cahadras did we turn back, this time towards the Mines of Moria at Frodo's decision.

At this point, the lighthearted mood of the group had settled into a much gloomier one. A week into the journey and we had already been ambushed, injured and now, being forced to change our route? As we descended the snowy slopes, I heard the hobbits exchange a few worried words.

"Are you sure Gandalf knows what he's doing, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, squinting doubtfully into the distant snowy slopes as if he could already see Moria. "I'm not so sure about these mines - my ol' Gaffer didn't trust any roof that wasn't under the open sky. An' in some books I read about the _awfulest _creatures who make their homes underground. Fire-breathing monsters and wicked little demons and flesh-eating goblins and –"

"I'm sure we'll be fine, Sam," Frodo interrupted, whose face had turned palish green at the mention of flesh-eating goblins.

"Besides, being eaten is a much more dignified way to die than freezing ontop some random mountain," Pippin said enthusiastically, which earned him a smack 'round the head from his cousin Merry.

The trek down the mountain was arduous for everybody. I tried to put my immaculate Elvish balance to use, but when I offered Boromir a hand after he'd slipped on an icy patch, he shot me a haughty look of disgust and turned away, leaving me with my arm extended and feeling very stupid. If my face had been pressed to the ground at that moment, I was sure the heat would've melted all the snow away.

The following afternoon, we arrived at the entrance to the great Mines of Moria, admiring its gargantuan, stony walls in silence. When Gandalf could not recall the password to the gates, I felt all the weight of my feelings finally coming down upon me. The fear of losing Aragorn, the terror from the Crebain and Saruman, the doubt of our path, the way I was completely useless to everybody else - all these emotions had been suppressed for a while now, and now each of them were making me more miserable by the moment. I sat down on a large expanse of rock and allowed myself to wallow in my misery.

"Mister Legolas?" a timid voice called some time later. I looked up and met the kind, concerned eyes of Samwise Gamgee.

I smiled weakly at him. "You don't have to call me that, Sam. I'm just Legolas."

The chubby hobbit sat down next to me. "But Gandalf tells me you're from Mirkwood, and that you're a Prince."

The word Mirkwood immediately brought back memories of the land I loved, the land that had once been dappled in sunlight and cultivated by careful gardeners and provided the sweet, crisp golden pears in the fall...

"Yes Sam, technically, I am a Prince. But it's different. For one thing, my father's immortal, so I don't have the responsibility of ruling for a while," I grinned, glad to be talking about something light of heart. "For another, I have three older brothers who are all fighting for the throne, so I'll probably live my life as nobility but not with all those boring responsibilities and jobs pestering me all day. And that's fine with me," I bit my lip thoughtfully. "I'd rather be outside exploring any day than sitting at some conference, negotiating treaties with other stuffy old Kings."

"Not all Kings are stuffy. Mister Strider won't be." Sam said stubbornly.

"No, I'm sure he won't," I said after a moment's hesitation, picking my words carefully. "But if he does go get his head a bit up in the clouds, he'll have us to drag him down to the ground, won't he?"

"Yeah, he will," came Aragorn's voice from behind me.

I turned around and met his eyes, then instantly wished I hadn't, for my stomach gave the most peculiar flip, the color drained from my face and a chilliness seemed to descend upon me, all at once because of one stupid glance into those grey irises.

_Breathe, Legolas. You're not the one who acted the ungrateful prat here._

"So you've finally decided I'm worthy of speaking to," I turned away, not bothering to contain the bitterness in my voice. To my right, I noticed that Sam had quietly slipped away, and the Ranger took his place instead.

"Legolas, don't be like that," he said quietly. For the first time in my life, I found his calm manner irritating.

"Funny, you're _still_ telling me what and what not to do."

"Well I'm sorry, alright?" Aragorn spat angrily, no trace of regret in his voice at all.

"You know, for some reason, I'm not quite sure you're being sincere," I said sarcastically. I expected a quick retort from the man beside me, but he shut his mouth and glared at the ground with smouldering eyes.

We sat there for a few minutes, a thick tension looming in the atmosphere, while the other Companions merrily chatted to themselves and Gandalf kept trying to blurt out the password.

I clenched my fists, furious. How _dare _Aragorn just try to come over and talk to me like nothing had happened? How _dare_ he ignore me for the entire day after I'd shed so many tears over his bleeding body? How _dare_ he apologize like this, as if a stupid "sorry" would just take away all the hurt and pain I felt inside? How _dare _he –

Calloused fingers touched my chin, jerking me out of my thoughts, and gently guided me to turn my head to face Aragorn. He slowly lowered his hand, but I barely noticed, because his eyes were so tragic, so remorseful, that despite myself, I felt my anger quickly waning.

"Legolas. I'm sorry," he said, and this time I did not for one moment doubt his sincerity. "My attitude towards you in the forest last night was astonishingly rude and ungrateful, and my only lame excuse is that I was preoccupied with my own anger so that when you came, I vented it out on you. I really shouldn't have, you were totally uninvolved, and it was completely selfish of me to act my feelings towards something different on you. Thank you for saving me even after I'd treated you so poorly, Legolas. I don't deserve the kindness you showed me last night. I don't even deserve your forgiveness right now. I-I just wanted to tell you that I'm so sorry. You must be disgusted with me."

"No, Aragorn, I'm not-" I started to say, but he didn't seem to hear me.

"And thank you for alerting the others and helping to get everybody out of the forest, I would never be able to live with the guilt that somebody else was injured because of my own recklessness. And I'm so sorry for ignoring you today, I just felt so guilty and angry with myself that I was too ashamed to approach you, and it wasn't until I saw you offering to help Boromir did I realize that no matter what I had to apologize because you are one of the kindest, most unselfish people I've ever met, and that I could never live with these feelings b and that you're truly an amazing person, and oh yeah, if I got any blood on your clothes, I am _so _sorry ottled up inside until I told you how truly sorry and thankful I am, because you need to know how I feel, I didn't mean to ruin any articles of clothing, and oh, I'm just thankful that you're alive, Legolas, because I don't know what I'd do without you because you must the world's most patient and understanding and compromising–"

"Aragorn! For the love of the Gods, stop raving!" I burst out, unable to contain myself.

He looked shocked at my interruption and for a few seconds we just looked at each other, both out of breath, until I started to laugh. And he joined in. And we kept laughing for well, I don't know exactly how long, but a long time nonetheless. I'm sure the other members of the Fellowship thought we were mad, but it didn't matter because the situation was suddenly so _stupid_...and hilarious.

Finally, when my stomach muscles felt like they were on fire and no more tears of mirth would come, I stopped laughing long enough to choke out an "I forgive you" to Aragorn, who in turn suddenly looked very pleased with himself and this made me begin to laugh again.

"Okay, okay, _stop,_" I said aloud after another wave of gut-wrenching laughter.

Aragorn managed to shut his mouth, but the corners of his lips were still switching as he held out a hand.

"Friends again?"

Without hesitation, I took it.

"'Course we are."

* * *

"Okay, here's one. If you had to choose between living in here or in Mount Doom for the rest of your life, what would you pick?"

"That's not even a hard one. Mount Doom. I could just jump in the lava and rid myself of boredom."

It was the second day the Fellowship had spent in the Mines of Moria, which turned out to be some sort of gigantic tomb indeed infested with all the terrible things Sam had mentioned. Luckily, we had managed so far to avoid being seen or heard by any enemies. Unluckily, this meant that the past 48 hours had dragged on considerably. I was positive that I would die of the stench and the gloomy, unfit-for-breathing-air so Aragorn and I had resorted to asking each other silly questions to distract ourselves as we walked behind the rest of the Fellowship.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask you this. What exactly _were_ you thinking about that day in the forest?" I asked Aragorn.

"That's not a fair question, it has to be stupid for me to answer it," he argued back.

"Well, I think you owe me some answers," I said defiantly.

He sighed, staring at his feet. "You really want to know?"

"Now that you're making such a big deal about it, yes I do!"

"Alright, fair enough," Aragorn capitulated. "I was thinking about Arwen. You know, Elrond's daughter...you've probably heard of her, there are rumors everywhere. Well, she and I are..together. _What? _Don't look so surprised!" he exclaimed, for my face had betrayed my astonishment.

But it wasn't just astonishment that hit me, I felt...a twinge of...of...jealousy?

"But I thought - you're not - she's -"

"Immortal, yes. She chose to give it up. You see the necklace around my throat? It is the Evenstar jewel, a gift from her to remind me of her love. It is the most valued possession I own."

I had noticed the beautiful pendant before and had wondered a few times why Aragorn's hand constantly went up to touch it, but had never bothered to ask. As the truth unfolded before my ears now, I saw for myself the true brilliance of the jewel, how its pure silver and eternal shine truly represented the essence of Elven immortality.

"Obviously, Elrond was not happy about her decision. He still treats me like his own son, but until I take up the throne of Gondor, I shall not have his permission to wed Arwen. Given that I make it through this journey alive," the Ranger ended bitterly.

"I-I don't know what to say," I stuttered, but Aragorn did not hear the tightness of my voice, the hammering of my heart. Silence settled over us as we continued to walk in the darkness. I was thankful for this lull in the conversation, for my mind was ready to explode.

I was fully aware that the situation Aragorn had explained to me was heart-wrenching and hopelessly tragic. Although I could never personally know how they felt, I now understood why Arwen had looked so forlorn that day – the man she loved was leaving her and she could very well never see him again. As an immortal myself, I realized how deep her love ran for Aragorn if she was willing to forsake her immortality to be with him. And I acknowledged the burden that was now placed on Aragorn's shoulders - he _had_ to succeed on this journey, he _had _to fulfill his duty as King of Men one day. The seriousness of otherwise consequences left him no choice but to face his fears.

But in the depths of my mind, a small part of me was feeling..._glad_. Glad that they were separated, glad that Arwen was doubtful, glad that now there was no beautiful Elvish princess to entrance Aragorn's eyes and capture his heart.

_What are you _thinking_, Legolas? Aragorn is your friend! How can you feel anything but sorrow for his pain? You have absolutely nothing against Arwen, you _know _that Aragorn is capable of rising to become King, and you deeply admire the love he shares with Arwen. _

_But I didn't just admire it_, I told myself. _I wanted it._

I wanted_ him.

* * *

_

**A/N: **Oooh...the realisation dawns upon our favorite Elf! Please lengthen my life expectancy by leaving a review )


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